The Silk of Benzaiten
by creepstakes
Summary: From the moment he was discovered, Kurama's life was destined for chaos. Karasu/Kurama, Cpt.Jack/Kurama. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: I had a thought about this a long time ago, and I decided I'd write it down. I hope you find it to your liking, gentle readers. I'm aware that the shows I'm crossingover are...well couldn't be more different, but bear with me.

**The Silk of Benzaiten**

-

Jack knew that one day his debts would catch up to him; they were bound to appear sooner or later. He would have preferred the latter but it apparently didn't matter anymore because it had just become the former. Not that he had anything to do in the meantime, it was just that his search for the Fountain of Youth wasn't going as well as it should have, and the Black Pearl was still sailing around attacking ships left and right. Now the Toguro brothers debt collector had appeared and brought his pretty little boy along with him. No. Things were not going well.

So he ran down the back streets of Tortuga and pretty much collided with every man that got in his way until he was on the outskirts of town and into the wilderness that surrounded it. The trees were thick and the vines seemed to claw at him as he stumbled through them haphazardly. It was dark and he couldn't see jack, ha pun. Must remember that. So he looked up at the sky past the thick canopy of leaves, hoping to see the stars somewhat that would help him find his way, only to find that he was in a forest, so if he wanted any results he'd have to climb up one of them and check the stars because he wouldn't be able to see his compass in this light.

As much as he hated to admit it, the compass hanging from it's tie fastened to one of his belts wouldn't be much use anyway, what he wanted was to get away from Karasu and the compass wasn't psychic, it'd probably point to the pretty lad that had been with Karasu and lead him in the worst direction possible. At any rate it left him, alone, in the forest, hunted by a creepy Japanese pirate who was quickly making a name for himself. With no idea where he was, forced to waste time by climbing trees to stargaze while Karasu closed in on him. Or at least that was the situation until ever re-prioritized and categorized itself as a hand suddenly appeared from behind a tree and yanked him into further darkness between two large entwined roots of the trees littered about.

"Gah! You!" He shouted at slapped the hand that still held his sleeve away.

The boy stared at him dryly, or at least he though he did, the glowy eyes only expressed so much. "Please be quiet, he's close."

Jack shot him a curious look then stuck his out from behind the tree and squinted his eyes, all he could see was trees and the occasional falling leaf. "Not to state the obvious, but aren't you on his side?" He asked turning back to the boy and jumping slightly, the boy was closer than he'd thought.

"Technically, yes." He spoke, tilting his head to the side and then looking up into the trees.

"Any particular reason you find yourself aiding the enemy then?" Jack asked, pointing to himself vaguely. The boys' animal-like eyes glowed in the dark like a foxes. If he was a fox then he'd be cunning, and he'd have a reason – an ulterior motive - in his reasoning that required him to help Jack. Perhaps if Jack tipped the scales, he himself would come out with all the profit.

"An enemy of my enemy is my friend." He spoke, then closed his eyes and melded into the darkness of the trees, pulling Jack with him.

-

**Two Days Earlier**

-

"Karasu!"

The pirate's corpse fell with a faint thud and Captain Karasu sneered at it. It served the rat right, he'd been absorbed in his own thoughts, and damn it, no one interrupted him when he was absorbed in his thoughts lest they meet a fishy death. Flicking the blood from his katana he turned to his savoir and raised an eyebrow.

"Unwise Kurama, with me dead you could've escaped." He surveyed the thin man beside him with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't do it for you," he snapped, crossing his arms over himself and looking away from Karasu's intense gaze. The fact that he looked like a wet kitten didn't escape Karasu. "I wouldn't survive in Tortuga on my own, I need you alive."

Karasu thought on it while he placed his katana back in its sheath and checked his yukata for blood. There was blood, however most of it was old and he hadn't had a chance to look for new clothes since he'd been in Tortuga last year. Kurama also needed a new yukata, or possibly a women's kimono. Karasu smirked gleefully at the thought then turned to face Kurama properly who glared back at him, his beautiful hair dishevelled and his face dirty with grime and soot.

"That's not true. With me dead you could have taken my weapon and fled, I kidnapped you for a reason and that was because you _could_ fight. You could have died on your ship like the others, but you defended yourself, and you defended yourself well. And so here you are. My beautiful Kurama, you're so unwilling to give up and die. You don't need my protection." He extended a hand to stroke Kurama's cheek and chuckled when it was slapped away viciously.

"If you died while in my presence the Toguro brothers would not stop until I was dead and that goes for every other pirate captain and their crew under his rule." His captive argued, still glaring at him from a fair distance away.

Karasu clicked his tongue. "You make them sound like martyrs."

Though his network was large and spanned over three ships and many other pirate affiliations the Toguro brothers were men of only so many morals. If Karasu died they wouldn't care, however Karasu implied the false fact too Kurama the first time they met, purely so that Kurama had no choice but to stick with his captor for his own safety or risk becoming the Caribbean's most hunted.

"Come." Karasu ordered in a 'obey me or die' tone of voice and turned to walk down the street, his silken tresses flowing after him.

Kurama stared after him for a while, anger boiling within him at being ordered around like a mere slave until Karasu had almost disappeared into the chaos that was Tortuga's main street. Then he knelt and riffled through the dead man's pockets unbelieving his luck when he came across a knife just perfect enough to hide in his yukata and not be too noticeable. Perhaps when he had some time alone, if he ever got time alone other than when Karasu was parading him around like a fucking prize as he was now, he'd be able to pick the seams on his sleeves and hide the blade between the layers of cloth. The handle could be discarded easily enough as long as they stayed in Tortuga for a few more nights.

Standing with a quick look at his surroundings Kurama left the body where it was and sought after Karasu, who'd disappeared into one of the taverns down the dirt street a little.

He hated this place. They'd stoped for what Karasu had said was a routine pick up of bribes, food and rum. The goats needed feed so that their cook could have milk to make their food and the men themselves needed to rest. Honestly Kurama couldn't see how men could live in such degradation it was horrific, Karasu was a class above most of the pirates here and he was appalled at most of Karasu's habits as it was.

Kurama considered himself a class above that. It was true that he wasn't human, it was the very reason he'd been on the very ship Karasu had attacked and taken him from. From the frying pan into the fire, so to speak. He had expected better of these people. Trapped in his situation, unable to free himself just yet, he whimpered and lamented following Karasu around like a fucking kit would its mother. He was kitsune, not a lowly dog. And Karasu had called the crew of his ship no less than dogs in an attempt to spur them on as they were close to reaching their destination, the seas angry fists bashing against the side of the ship and covering the deck with the results of its fury. Any man who was not holding onto something was thrown off balance and eventually tossed into the oceans clasps. Davy Jones would have them.

Glaring at the inhabitants of this sordid existence he walked up the steps to the tavern and searched through the waring mass of bodies and finally spotted Karasu at a table standing beside a seated man. Ducking his head and acting the innocent defenceless captive that he truly was Kurama made his way over to the violet eyed pirate captain.

Karasu leant over the table, his face an inch away from the seated man who lent back in his wooden chair, attempting to back away from Karasu's scrutiny with little luck. The man looked more like a geisha than a pirate with all that black muck around his eyes and the trinkets in his hair.

"Oh, it's you."

"I want my money _Captain_ Jack," Karasu was saying as he rested a hand on the handle of his katana, the other splayed over the table to level himself over the distance.

The geisha mans eyes slid to Kurama and then back to Karasu a few times before his lips pulled back to form a nervous smile. "How nice to see you again, Karasu." He spoke with a solemn inclination of his head, and then stood, swaying slightly.

"Now." Karasu prompted, his thumb flicking the tip of his katana from its sheath and into a position where it could easily be unsheathed. He shifted slightly, standing on his side, and Kurama swallowed, feeling almost sorry for the other man. If Karasu wanted too, he could have simply drawn the katana and sliced the man's head clean off by now, with one clean strike.

But he wouldn't would he? He wouldn't get the money this 'Jack' owed to the Toguro brothers.

Jack shifted on his feet also, tugging at his sleeves a little nervously and leaning forward as he spoke, swaying on the balls of his feet. "I would think that, it would be better to allow me some time to retrieve the money. Wouldn't you think so?"

Kurama turned his eyes to Karasu. "You've had long enough."

Kurama stepped forward and grasped the sleeve of Karasu's yukata. "Karasu… "

He almost shrank back when he turned his head to glare at him, and Jack craned his neck to look at him better, but he glared back at Karasu instead, ignoring his petty fear. Karasu may have trapped him, but he also held Karasu trapped, so long as he didn't lose interest then Kurama would be fine. "Why don't you give him two days, then if he doesn't pay you and the Toguro brothers want to know why, they won't punish you for it." He said quietly, so that the other man couldn't hear.

The dark haired man appeared to turn it over in his head, before he looked down to Kurama with a slight, dangerous smile. "You must have an ulterior motive for this, why would you care for a stranger?"

He didn't have one yet, but he had heard the rumours about this certain pirate, and if he was right, doing this one a good deed might turn things to his favour. "I don't have one."

"Lie," he accused in a hushed voice, narrowing his eyes at him.

Kurama felt like he'd just been shaken from the inside. "I don't."

"If I allow him two days what will you give me?" He asked, an intense leer suddenly creeping from his eyes.

Panicking, Kurama offered the only thing he could think of. "Me."

Then he cursed his mouth, and thought it through properly. It would give him a chance to kill Karasu, certainly, but he wasn't sure if he'd have enough _time_.

Karasu smirked triumphantly. "I knew you would come around to my side eventually, my beautiful Kurama."

He felt sick.

Karasu straightened himself, and the katana was pushed firmly back into its sheath again. "Two days, Jack." He called to the man who was in the process of sneaking away from them both, through the chaotic taverns occupants.

The man turned on his heel, gave a slight wave and an unconvinced smile and then stepped to the side, disappearing into the crowd. Karasu turned to look at him, and placed a large and yet delicate hand on his shoulder.

"Come," He said, turning Kurama away and towards the taverns exit.

-

Kurama didn't want to know where the large box-like wicker basket had come from.

It was beside him on the floor, from where he'd fallen unconscious, when he woke. He'd seen enough of them before his identity had been discovered and they'd forced him onto the ship to be taken to one of the rich Englishmen that had offered to buy him on sight upon seeing his beauty. The whole mess had saved him from the blade, but in the long run dishonoured him more than death would have. The Englishman gone ahead, something to do with business, and he'd been kept prisoner until the transport ship he'd been put on was raided by Karasu's crew.

The wicker box, large enough for a small child to hide in, usually held kimono. Women's kimono.

He picked himself up, wincing at the pain in his lower regions, and pulled what was left of his yukata around him, tying it carefully at his waist, purposefully ignoring the bruises there, marring his pale skin. Having had almost no time to survey the room Karasu had rented last night, he looked around for the first time, standing tentatively, ignoring the box in the middle of the room.

It was a simple and yet obviously expensive, for Tortuga anyway. It amused him how the town seemed to be so chaotic, but you weren't bothered unless you were looking for a fight. Which meant the rooms upstairs were never disturbed, even by the maids, who were usually to drunk to remember to clean anyway.

The floor was covered in a rather old and dirty carpet, and the tables and vanity dresser made from old wood, placed on the wall opposite the window with shattered glass, and torn lace curtains. A wooden framed bed with a hybrid straw and feather down mattress, covered with disturbed sheets. There was an open fireplace with and extended hearth of cold tile, and a small stack of wood beside it. The room was absent of Karasu, and so rather larger than Kurama had remembered it.

Moving to the window, where there was light, he peered across the balcony from the floor bellow and onto the still chaotic street, with the drunkards and pirates still wondering in drunken stupors, although a little calmer than the night before. He couldn't see Karasu from the window, and neither was he anywhere in the room, so, taking the chance presented to him, Kurama pulled the knife he'd hidden from his yukata sleeve.

Last night, when Karasu had attacked him, he'd done everything he could to keep it a secret, without being suspicious, and with an utterly bitter taste in his mouth he hoped that it was worth it. He worried his lip for a moment, and then turned his eyes on the wicker basket. He would be taking a gamble to assume that Karasu would want him to wear that, but it seemed just like him to want to torture him so.

He stood and walked over to the basket, pulling its lid off and staring at the contents inside. The Kimono's outer layer was a rich green, shot through with veins of branch-like gold and small petals of deep red. The pattern was elegant, and no doubt very colourful and outstanding. Certainly very long, it would probably trail along behind him if he were to wear it, the neck would arch deep down his spine, and the sleeves would probably reach his knees, if not further, covering his hands to the tips of his fingers. A single woman's kimono.

He gulped as he laid it out on the floor, and began picking carefully at the fine stitch with the blades edge. Taking care to leave it so that the hole would be small, and yet still leave enough room to slip it in and retrieve it if necessary, he tried his best to work quickly, in fear of Karasu walking in and spotting him.

A few times he got spooked by footsteps coming down the hallway, and he utterly froze, his heart beating wildly in his chest and his eyes wide, until they passed by, and he let out a shaky breath before going back to the job at hand.

He was washing himself with the small water pitcher and basin when then door opened and he steely ignored his nerves as they rattled and crawled under his skin, the hair raising on the back of his neck as Karasu closed the door behind him.

"I informed the crew that we are staying for two days. We leave at sunrise." He said, taking a few long strides forward, calmly ignoring the kimono basket, and settled himself on the bed, which was only just large enough for two people. Kurama eyed him cautiously through the vanity's mirror as he continued to scrub at his skin and use the water pitcher to wash the suds into the small copper basin.

He began to feel self-conscious under the intense scrutiny.

"What's your purpose with this, Kurama?" he asked, watching him, leaning back on his elbows, his feet crossed over at his ankles.

Kurama wiped himself down with the cloth provided, and placed it back on the vanity, then slipped his yukata back onto his shoulders and tied it around his waist tightly. "I wanted to help."

"No one is that kind hearted." He replied in a dry tone of voice, then sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling his sword from his waist and placing it just slightly under the bed, and cradled against the wall.

"You're a pirate. What would you know about kindness?" He snapped, and then froze as Karasu's hands clamped over his shoulders. He hadn't notice him move, the man was so silent when he wanted to be. It was almost as if Karasu were the unnatural one instead of Kurama.

He swallowed as Karasu's breath ghosted down his neck, and slender pale fingers began to tug his hair, pulling his head back and away slightly. "I know that my act of kindness was not leaving you to rot on that ship, and right now by not tying you to the bed and letting you starve for two days. The pain is more intense when you haven't eaten."

When one of the pirate's hands began sliding a little too far downward, just like last night, Kurama caught it and gasped as Karasu bit into his neck roughly in response. He was forced up against the vanity with a rough shove and the resounding rattle startled Kurama, his eyes flew wide, then he clenched his jaw sternly and looked away.

"We made a deal, my beautiful Kurama. You agreed to be willing for two days." He reminded, pulling Kurama's hands behind his back and holding them as his other free hand snaked around his front again, between the vanity and his abdomen.

Kurama raised his chin and glared at Karasu through the oval shaped, stained mirror before them. "That didn't stop you last night."

The dark haired man smirked at him, his fingers tugging at the tie of Kurama's yukata. "Yesterday wasn't included in the two days. You have today and tomorrow. The morning after next I collect the debt, or a head, and we will continue on our search for a certain something I have had my eye on since meeting you."

Kurama dropped his head so he couldn't see his reflection as one of Karasu's knees slid between his own. It was just like Karasu to not force him into this, he was going to 'let' Kurama get aroused on his own.

"Did you see my present?" He whispered into his ear as his yukata slipped open, and his hand slid up to trail over his nipple as Karasu pressed harder against him. Moulding their hard bodies together, as close as possible. Like this Kurama could feel how hard Karasu's cock was against his ass, and he resisted the urge to fight back, the urge to throw up, or to cry out desperately.

"I did." He said, his voice quivering, and gasped slightly when Karasu wrenched his chin up and licked along his jaw with his hot tongue.

Despite his anger at being trapped and controlled against his will - with Karasu, with the Englishman, with this deal, with _everything_ – he couldn't ignore Karasu's onslaught. Last night he'd been vicious and not gentle at all, Kurama was sure he'd torn him inside, but he had much worse done to him, and being kitsune certainly helped a lot. Only his star ball had been lost when the ship was blown to smithereens, and so he had no great power as he was now. But oh, he had ways of getting it back too. He just had to be patient.

Pleased with Kurama's more compliant attitude, the hand that held Kurama's hands behind his back slipped away and sought his hardness, and purred as he ran his teeth down Kurama's neck.

Kurama, staring at the mould covered ceiling with half lidded eyes, allowed a moan to escape him as Karasu's long fingers closed around his cock, and stroked him languidly, until he was full and almost quaking in Karasu's arms.

"You'll be much better like this, I think you like a little pain though, isn't that right? My beautiful Kurama." He sneered his name as if an insult and the hand that had been toying with his nipple slipped up into his bound hair and wrenched his head back again when he turned to glare at him, his hand tightening around his cock.

Kurama gasped and began to struggle, thrusting his elbow back into Karasu's side and forcing his hands away from him. But Karasu, not one to be taken lightly, only wrapped both of his arms around Kurama's waist and picked him up, and taking a long step back, thrust Kurama around and onto the bed.

Sprawled face down on the bed, as good as unclothed, and quivering with need, Kurama peeked back up over his shoulder to Karasu, then quickly adverted his eyes back to the white sheets bellow him. Karasu was pulling his yukata from his shoulders, a sight which should have been as arousing as it was.

Not wanting to think about how erotic Karasu seemed, just at the simple sight of his dark hair slipping to his chest as the ash and blood coloured yukata was pulled from his shoulders, Kurama pulled himself up and spun around, backing up to the headboard of the bed, and glaring aptly. Karasu chuckled at the sight, and bent down to untie his western boots and slip his western pants from his hips, revealing his hard cock.

He bent forward until his hands were splayed out on the sheets of the bed, and placed a knee on the edge of the mattress, directly before Kurama at the end of the bed, and crawled forward, forcing Kurama's legs open as he went and turning his head to the side when Kurama tried to punch him. "You seem to forget that you promised to be _mine _for two days, Kurama," he taunted, catching Kurama's wrist when he attempted to punch him again.

"Stop saying my name." He hissed, though he felt like the air he gulped in simply wasn't enough. Karasu was poised over him, against him, hot skin on skin, and small almost giddy like waves of pleasure rushing through him from the contact of their naked cocks.

Karasu continued on as if Kurama hadn't said a thing, holding Kurama's wrists above his head by the sleeves of his yukata after sweeping away the pillows with one powerful swipe, then simply staring down at him. Something dark lurking behind his eyes, something masquerading as intense lust. "Though, I guess I'd just take you anyway. I can't help but be curious, I wonder if your screams of pleasure are the same as your cries of pain?"

Kurama considered spiting at him, and decided against it after a while. He made a deal, if he didn't hold up his end he couldn't expect Karasu to do the same. In fact he shouldn't expect Karasu to hold up his end of the deal anyway, there were too many loopholes. There agreement had been to wait two days for the money, Karasu could have easily killed Jack and waited two days to collect the money from wherever Captain Jack hid it (if he even had any).

Then he was gasping, clenching his jaw as Karasu bent down and ran his tongue over one off his nipples, in long languid strokes until it tightened into a hard nub and he took it between his teeth, pulling slightly. Kurama forced himself to not make any sound other than his harsh breathing, however he couldn't help but squirm under him. His cock was constantly reminding him of what it wanted and now the song was sang along with the rest of his body, until it all cried out it chorus as Karasu lifted his head and watched Kurama closely as he gyrated his hips.

His head seemed to turn to the side for of its own will when the cry snuck past his lips, his hair a dirty mess of red strewn about him, his pale skin covered in ripe, barely day old bruises and bite marks. He wasn't exactly paying attention to Karasu's slight hiss, as his hips snapped forward again, hard and fast, sending a bolt of bliss right through Kurama's eager body. It seemed only right to wrap his legs around Karasu's hips, to pull him closer, and to thrust up against Karasu when lips returned to his as yet unmolested nipple.

Now held in the tight grasp of pleasure, becoming its wanton slave, Kurama threw his head back and moaned loudly. Feeling the body above him shudder slightly in response he looked down, panting, and swallowed. Karasu drifted down, further and further, down his stomach, abdomen and then lowered his head and smiled slightly as Kurama's cock struck his cheek slightly, and licked at its length happily, almost greedily. Kurama, watching with those wide emerald eyes, realised he looked like a child with a new toy, and as the morbidity settled slowly, he forgot everything as his hard cock was encased in warm suction, and brought his hands down to slide through inky hair. Only then did he distractedly realise that his hands had been released, and that Karasu's own had taken residence on his chest again, his thumbs running back and forth over his nipples, in circles and pulling lightly. Sending bolts of lightning through him, right to his cock, and the heat which engulfed it.

All together, it seemed too strong. He swallowed thickly and moaned softly. His world was being devoured, and he could only revel in it, as skilful hands and tongue played his body like a violin, knowing just where to push, and where to pull, to make everything to explode behind his eyes, and in his veins. Karasu's hot mouth, around his cock, seemed his whole world; with his eyes closed he could only feel, and sense, and drift, closer and closer…

Then it stopped, and Karasu was crawling back up and covering him completely with his warm flesh and Kurama was digging into his back with his nails in frustration as they kissed forcefully, and passionately, their tongues sliding against each other, just like their cocks, and their bodies, a seemingly perfect match. Karasu forced the transition from lips to ear with a growl, his hair sliding after him, as he growled, "so compliant now," into his ear.

Kurama shook his head, back and forth, and gripped tighter at Karasu, his hands slipping down to his ass to pull him closer. "I don't care… I don't care… Give me your cock."

There was a moment of stillness where Kurama seriously thought he felt the earth take a last gasp of breath, and everything had paused perfectly still as he gazed up, his soft lips parted and his veins singing with need. For a single, terrifying moment, he had the clarity to wonder if he'd said something wrong. Because the look in Karasu's eyes at that moment, when he turned to look at him, seemed…

It wasn't a look at all. It didn't seem _sane _enough to be called that_._

It passed, with Karasu pulling Kurama's hair back, making him cry out, and bending down slightly to hook his arm under a pale leg, hoisting it up, and without preamble, forcing himself inside Kurama's tight ass. Kurama's throat closed up, and the pain seemed immediate: in his leg, forced to such a strange angle, in his neck as Karasu sought purchase there with his teeth, holding tight onto his flesh almost as tightly as Kurama did he. And deep inside him, again and again, until tears gathered in his eyes, and his jaw clenched, his arms scrambling for something to hold on too.

His arousal dampened, taken away by Karasu's viciousness, and the sudden sharp reminder of his situation, and how utterly horrible it was. He had nothing, but a distant hope, and a dishonest man to rely on living into the next year. The earth said nothing to him, refusing to answer until he paid it proper respect. But he couldn't _do_ that anymore. His star ball, his essence, had been taken. And his youko-self had gone with it, hiding in the caves rampant in Isla de Muerta, which was mostly submerged underwater now.

Gritting his teeth, Kurama bore the pounding assault, determined to come out of this on top somehow, and of no cost to his own being.

He didn't struggle. An accord had been struck.

For now, he would pretend to be half of what he was before his strength had been taken from him, and allow the cogs to move, impervious to his wielding the final piece needed for the final rotation.

-

Ah... more to come soon?


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning**: This chapter contains non-con (i.e rape) if it's not your thing, skip this chapter.

**The Silk of Benzaiten**

Two_  
_

-

Dark and dank, the cave mostly unwelcome to all who entered. Isla de Muerta was a place that shunned those who didn't deserve to know its whereabouts and couldn't be found easily whether you knew where it was or not. Regardless of how many broken compasses Calypso may have given out in the past to aid those in finding it.

It may have been because of the fact that the ocean had turned against the island, and encompassed it completely, leaving only a few select opening and caves that were not completely filled with water.

Pressed against the hard black rock of one of these caves, staring blearily at the stalagmites and the scattered gold, a man dressed in a dirtied white military uniform rested. His hair hung in his face, his brilliant silver hair dusted with brown with the soot and grime that covered him. He hugged himself as he shivered, and rested his jaw on his chest, if only to stop the chattering of his teeth as he shivered with the effects of an unseen disease.

Outside, among the waves and the sea mist, stood a figure dressed in black, looking to be walking on water as he hoped from the tip of rock steeple to rock steeple. Wandering from one temple of the sunken skull shaped island to the other, he paced and waited, his patience thinning.

The darkhaired man, atop a steep and island, narrowed his unnatural eyes at the horizon. The salty air mussed his hair, and bit at his features, rustling the black cloth of his clothes. The broken waves sloshed passed his booted feet, white foam slipping under him dizzyingly. A backdraft of the wrong element.

He waited.

For too long.

Turning back to the cave, he sent his gaze further inward, and connected with the one inside. The white one's eyes cleared somewhat into a state of near lucidity, and words fell from his lips. He lacked the energy and well being to put any real effort into movement and speech. "What is it, Hiei?"

"He's taking too long."

Inside the cave, the man slumped against the cave wall, causing a stack of coins to slip and fall down the slight incline, down into the puddles of water at his feet. "Bring him to me."

Hiei returned his gaze towards the horizon. Kurama had not returned in over 100 years.

They had waited long enough.

-

"Put the kimono on." Karasu said, pointing lazily in the direction of the box in the middle of the room.

Kurama barely restrained his anger. Men had died for much less insults to the name of Inari. Treating him like a pet and a bed-slave, nothing more, was shameful.

Taking some of the bread for himself and leaning back, Karasu waited. "Well?"

Saying nothing, Kurama did as he was told; as he'd agreed to do so for these two days. This was, thankfully, the last day he'd ever submit to Karasu.

He walked over to the kimono box, pushing his hair back away from his face as he did so. He could feel Karasu's eyes on him, watching always watching. Leering for the moment at Kurama's naked body. He'd torn his yukata clean in half, he'd have to steal another one if he ever wanted to be dressed correctly.

He pulled the lid off the box, and then slid the layers of the kimono out. It was fine, made of Chinese silk that was pleasing to the touch.

The pirate helped him dress, something he accepted bitterly and didn't comment on. Karasu's hands lingered too long on his thin body, turning him this way and that so he could see Kurama better in the light of day. He seemed to enjoy tormenting Kurama, regardless of whether Kurama had agreed to be willing or not. He felt the skin of Kurama's thighs, caressed his waist and held his neck unnecessarily, tugging and pulling at him binding him tightly in the kimono. Kurama tolerated it this once whereas he'd be fighting back, refusing to be dressed in such garments, or treated as a woman, had he not made such a stupid mistake of trusting another pirate (no matter his reputation) to get him out of this mess. What fool would trust a pirate to pull through on his word? He lacked the kitsune supernatural binding. He couldn't break a promise or deal if he tried.

Karasu had apparent skill in the ways of tying obis, something which mildly amused Kurama. For a moment he wondered where he'd learnt the skill, however he was quick to abandon the train of thought. To think such thoughts about Karasu…they made him all too human.

"How is your ass this morning, Kurama?" Karasu taunted, his smug nature grating along Kurama's nerves. His hands splayed flat against the gold of the obi, pulling Kurama back into his naked body.

Tender and leaking. Karasu hadn't allowed him the right to clean himself up afterwards, not that they really had the water to do so. Filth was rife in Tortuga, few had the money or cared enough to have frequent baths and so there was very little business in the port for it.

Yesterday had been full of perversions. Karasu had immersed himself in Kurama's promise. He'd fucked Kurama, over and over. Each time was worse, more shameful, and more painful.

Kurama took it as punishment. He'd believed in a pirate, Jack Sparrow, because his reputation had said he was capable of the impossible (or improbable, really) but Jack was probably stacking the deck and using Kurama. What a mess, all this over that one wager.

"Don't want to talk?" he asked, slinking around to stand before Kurama.

With the tip of his finger, he tapped Kurama's chin, hard enough to turn his head to the side, an action that was somewhere between a caress and a slap. Soon after Kurama felt Karasu's warm lips against his cheek, and he struggled to keep his expression blank as he fought back harsh words about how Karasu reviled him.

"What would you have me say?" Kurama glared at the window, refusing to turn to the mirror to look at Karasu and himself in it.

"Tell me if you like the kimono."

It was quite a nice kimono, where Karasu had got it from was a mystery. It was the cleanest piece of clothing he'd worn since his capture. He felt relatively clean, something he'd grown to appreciate. Of course the clean feeling was nullified each time Karasu laid his hands on him, prodded and poked and teased him until he was panting, flushed and hungry for sex.

Something inside didn't mind Karasu all that much, which frustrated Kurama. Something identified with the pirate, something in his kitsune nature. Most likely the lasting remains of his other self.

In the end he said, "It is adequate," because he would loathe to give Karasu the satisfaction that a creature like Kurama could be amused by Karasu's actions.

Karasu's hands slipped from his obi.

Kurama turned to face him when he heard him pick up the katana, unwilling to have his back faced to an armed man. The kimono had an odd weight. It kept his back straight, taxed him more when he lifted his arms or tried to shift his feet. It would take him a while to get used to it.

Karasu's dark hair slid from his shoulder and hid his face as he pulled the katana from its scabbard slowly. The blade glistened in the filtered light, let in through that single broken window. The sound of the blunt edge of the blade sliding along the scabbard was unnerving, it sent a tingle of apprehension through Kurama's limbs. Something close to, perhaps, fear. Kurama raised his chin however, and brought his hands together before his chest, feeling along the seams of the sleeve of his kimono, searching for his hidden weapon.

Anxiety twisted in his gut. He supposed any other human would have been quivering in fear at this point, but Kurama stood with tall, his blood rushing in his ears and feeling slightly sick, but otherwise calm.

The tip of Karasu's katana laid against his chest, then travelled up to his throat. Blunt edge parallel with the jaw, sharp edge pointing down to his chest. "Kneel," he ordered, his voice stoic and calm.

Kurama did so, gracefully. One knee and then the other, until he was on his knees before Karasu, the sleeves of his kimono spilling of the floor either side of him and his once again dirty crimson hair falling in his eyes, that of it which Karasu hadn't pinned up. He blinked slowly, narrowing his eyes challengingly at the silhouette of Karasu whom stood before the window; it was the only defiance he could allow himself.

"You make such a beautiful woman, Kurama."

All kitsune where beautiful, and womanly. A male kitsune was rare, almost unnatural, which was why he'd gone so long in keeping his identity covered for so long, and now he had to keep it secret again. It was difficult, but it could be done. He was one of the best of his true kind. He schemed among the greatest. He was, the greatest. Had been. Before he'd been caught and robbed of his power and pride.

"Save your complements, Karasu." He stared forward, pulling at his sleeves with the tips of his fingers. Just as he had estimated they reached down, almost passing over his fingers, and then neckline dipped low down his back, bearing his spine. A weakness. One well placed punch to his neck, one deep enough thrust of a knife, and he would be dead or worse immobilized. Turned into a doll for the rest of his life. Or dead before he even realised what had happened.

Karasu hummed deep in his throat and pressed the tip of the blade into his skin a little further. "You talk defiantly yet you won't act so, will you? I have noticed you have a trend of keeping your word, Kurama. At least until they explode in your face."

Kurama's lips pulled up slightly. "I agreed to give you my body. Not my mind."

"On the contrary we didn't specify just what exactly you would give me for the two days, only that I could have 'you'. I could kill you now and I would have kept my word." Karasu smirked wolfishly.

Kurama's breath hitched, and he felt violently ill for a second. He was in an extremely dangerous position at the moment, the scales could tip either way. He swallowed thickly. "You won't kill me."

"No? Why not? Perhaps I enjoy killing scarlet women like yourself."

Kurama could think of no reply to that.

They stared at each other for a moment, then Karasu lowered the katana, turned and walked to the door. Kurama dropped his chin to his chest and took a calming breath. His temper was rising, despite how calm he was trying to keep himself, the stress was taking its tole. He needed his star ball if he were to become stable once again. Once this day was over, all deal would be forfeit and he could kill Karasu.

Until then, he'd keep his promise.

-

Tortuga should not have existed during the day. Really it didn't, instead it almost became a port of worth. Every pirate knew the meaning of hard work, even if its worth had been washed away with time, chipping away slowly, but still, they as pirates knew that life left uncontrolled was like letting a ship sail free of bearings. A dangerous thing, most would say. Something with no direction, no purpose, is nothing at all.

If a person it is no life at all, to have and hold as your own.

Jack shook his head to dismiss the trail of thought. His eyes wandering, scouring the people about him. Those suffering with hangovers and limping from nights of excess. His lips twitched into a smile, he swayed a little on his feet, uneasy, and placed his hand on his hip, fingers tracing over his pistol.

"Jack. Jack." Mr. Gibbs still did not look pleased.

He raised his eyebrows pointedly. "I'm sorry who?"

He was met with rolled eyes. "For the sake of- this is serious yer hear? This is Karasu. And you haven't done anything by way of funds to pay him back yet. Why haven't yer taken off like yer have every other time?"

He paused, and shifted his weight. Of course he had a reason. He just wasn't sure if it would work or not. "…The winds aren't right."

Gibbs paused, his wide eyes narrowing as he looked into the distance. A woman with a chicken, trying to pick up a drunken man. "One of those gut feelings, aye?"

A moment of unease. "Something like it."

If only Isla de Muerta hadn't been swallowed in Calypso's rage before she'd been caged in darling Elizabeth once again.

Then he saw something from the corner of his eye. It drew his attention, not because of attraction, but because of something beneath the surface of things. Something behind the cogs of life. He narrowed his eyes and then ducked behind Gibbs, peaking out from behind him.

"It's them!"

And it was. What had drawn his eyes had been the young man that had been with Karasu the last time they had appeared, demanding money and making deals with each other. The redhead looked even more a woman now, dressed like that, and Karasu looked ever the devil he was. The two of them together, spoke purely of trouble, walking about as if with no particular purpose but to walkabout.

Then he locked eyes with the pretty lad.

They said one thing to him, and one thing only. Something that made him want to wince and bite his nails.

Jack's gaze went inwards. He knew that look all too well.

"They're fighting." Gibbs commented, turning to Jack quickly then pointing back towards the two.

He returned his eyes to the two pirates and watched. Karasu seemed rather pleased about something, taking the lads chin and forcing him to look at him, smiling at his half-hearted attempt to pull his chin away.

Jack grinned a little. "Things are going well, Mr. Gibbs."

-

**Day Two**

-

He pulled a piece of bread from the small loaf he held, and placed it in Kurama's mouth. His fingers traced along his jaw, leering as his fingers ran through the free hanging strands of blood red, dirtied hair framing Kurama's face. Cheese was offered next, placed to Kurama's lower lip and pulled away slightly when Kurama leant forward slightly to take it from him.

Karasu was still slightly annoyed that Kurama had resisted him earlier, but it had passed. He had gotten what he wanted in the end.

"Ah-ah." Karasu shook his head and placed his elbows on his knees as he leant forward, causing the rusted bed to creak. He tapped a long finger on his lips twice and smirked at Kurama.

Kurama's fingers bunched up the fabric of the sleeves of the woman's kimono as he glared up at Karasu, on his knees before him. It was a familiar position by now.

"A kiss first, then a reward," Karasu purred, canting his head slightly.

Kurama swallowed his rage and raised himself off his heels, leaning up to reach Karasu's lips. They were warm and wet, tasted of the days-old cheese he'd decided to share with Kurama. His fingertip brushed along the sharp edge of the blade hidden between the two layers of the expensive outer kimono.

Fingernails scrapped along his scalp painfully as Karasu pulled him closer and pried his mouth open, slipped his tongue into Kurama's mouth as his other hand welcomed itself to the bare expanse of Kurama's neck. His cry of surprise and protest was swallowed, his mind repulsed at his own reluctant submission. He kissed him back half-heartedly, played along with Karasu's desires as he'd promised to do.

His pride reared in disgust, with more vigour than it had done the past times.

It only encouraged Karasu. He forgot about just how empty Kurama's stomach was and instead focused on just how urgent his libido was. A hard weight hidden behind the material of his western style trousers, pressed against the gold wrap of the obi and other layers of material Kurama had been lovingly dressed in, thankfully too thick for him to feel the pirate's desires through.

His teeth sank into Kurama's lower lip and he jerked back, keening in pain. His hands weren't sure whether to push Karasu away by his chest or claw at his jaw and pry his mouth open to release himself. Pain sliced and Karasu pulled away, blood running down his chin.

Kurama flopped back down onto his heels and bent over himself as he brought both of his hands to his lower lip, catching the steady thick flow of blood and evidencing the cause of his sharp pain. He swallowed a whimper of pain and shook with a mixture of rage and humiliation. Reduced to this.

"You're not trying very hard, Kurama. I am annoyed."

The blood slipped from between his fingers and fell to the dusty wooden floor with pitter-patters that were barely audible. So much of it. His lip would heal soon enough, quicker than one would expect a human's too, yet he kept his head down and narrowed his eyes at the floor with Karasu's words.

"It's difficult to replace your face and skill with someone who's not as repulsive. It's a necessary measure if I want to pretend to be aroused by you." He poked at his lip with his tongue as he lifted his head, emerald eyes burning with hate. He was slipping in managing to keep his rage at being subjected to such inferiority. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

Karasu was reaching down to Kurama before he'd even fully straightened his back. He threw his hands up at him and scrambled backwards as well as he could with the tightness of the length of the kimono around his legs. Karasu only closed his eyes to keep the blood from his eyes and grabbed a handful of Kurama's hair. He yanked Kurama back towards him as he wiped the blood from his eyes and forehead with his spare hand, not caring much for the strands of hair that did come loose or the loud yelp Kurama released.

To hell with the Toguro brothers and any other pirate that came after him if he disobeyed Karasu. Jack wasn't a pirate that could be trusted either. He was on his own and this and hell if he was going to let himself be treated like this without vehemently trying (and succeeding as he was sure he would do) his pride would not allow him to take this treatment much longer.

Close enough to do so, Kurama's palm slammed into Karasu's chin, forcing his mouth closed and head back. Hopefully he'd made him bite through his tongue as well. Son of a whore. He wrapped a hand around Karasu's wrist and tugged, bit his lips when he pulled half of his hair with it.

Previously his hair had been held up with some small trinkets Karasu had apparently stolen from a filly from one of the Tortuga whore houses, now half of his hair hung down and brushed along his shoulders in strands. He choked on a shout when Karasu's hand shot out and grasped his neck, his thumb pressing into his windpipe and making his throat itch and lungs ache.

Karasu growled, his brow furrowing and lips pulling back to bare his teeth as he hissed his words at him. "That wasn't very kind of you!"

He twisted and pulled Karasu forward, until he was on his back and Karasu was falling off the bed to land on his knees before him, the wood beneath them shuddered, no doubt raining dust on those the floor below. He brought his knees up and gave a broken choke of victory at Karasu's sudden loosening on his neck which his knee impacted with him stomach.

He pushed away Karasu's hand and squirmed beneath him. The material of his kimono tore loudly the sudden slack made his escape a little trickier as it fell down around his shoulders and coiled around his knees. He rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up into a crouch, bunching up the green and gold Chinese silk before he stood.

"You're not leaving!"

Agony stabbed him in the ankle, across the back of his right foot. He took one step and fell face down on the hard wood below him. His fingers scraped on the stained rug as he screamed in pain and fought to get away from Karasu, who bodily picked him up with one hand around his waist and the other under his hips. His katana clattered to the ground loudly.

Kurama had a single detached moment to mentally shake his head in disapproval. Such treatment of a sword. But then again, Karasu was no samurai.

Feeling as if he'd hit a soft spot before with his insult, Kurama continued on in the same vein, bucking and thrashing in Karasu's arms. "I'd never be able to look at your ugly face and think of you as a worthy lover!"

Stars crept in through the sides of his vision, then the pain hit him like an open body of water from 600 feet. The shards of the glass mirror falling to the dresser cut into the skin of his shoulder and cheek and Karasu pressed him against the spider web of splintered glass and the hard wooden backing. He forced his head down after a moment, one hand pressing his head down into the thick wood of the table of the dresser. The pressure on his skull brought horrified thoughts to mind. Pain and a weird feeling inside his head, behind his eyes, clawed at him. His nerves rattled and his blood rushed, he struggled to take deep enough breaths.

He clawed at the dresser, his eyes threatening to roll back into his head as Karasu only pressed his head down harder, and his skull felt like it was caught in a vice, slowly being squeezed. Harder.

He didn't realise he was bent over the vanity dresser with his ass bared to Karasu, all he could think of was the pain.

"I won't play your sick games anymore you bastard pirate!" he spat, his voice sounding weak and pitifully shaky to his own ears. Through the shards of glass still in the mirror, he could see the top right corner of the window and the blue sky beyond. Karasu's head and black clothed shoulder blocked out most of it. Wearing a sadistic smirk and blood stained lips. Blood ran from his nose down passed his lips and dripping from his chin, falling to stain the silk of Kurama's kimono.

"It doesn't matter," he said, his eyes widening slightly with delight and he leant forward, pressing his chest flush with Kurama's back he leant over him, his left hand keeping him pressed painfully against the top of the dresser. Like this he could feel with no difficulty at all just how exited Karasu was. Violence seemed to turn him on just a little more than his mental turmoil and pleasure induced submissions. "I liked it better when you struggled anyway. There's no fun if you don't fight back. And you do fight back, Kurama, wonderfully so. You're weak, but not enough to be boring. I like you Kurama, and that's why I want to watch you die eventually."

Rage at those words spurred Kurama to thrash, fighting his uncomfortable position, bent over the dresser, parallel with the wall and the mirror, one leg and arm hanging over the edge the other pressed against the shards of glass or the wall. Karasu stood behind him, leaning down over him, his eyes glinting unnervingly his smirk widening.

He struggles wrought only pain once more as Karasu lifted him up by fisting his hands in his hair and pulled the top half of his torso up by his head, angling his neck awkwardly, then flattening his hand against his head and slamming him, temple first, back into the dresser.

The dresser rattled and he was sure he heard something crack past his own wet gasp as he drooled the blood from his bitten tongue.

His vision fled, replaced with white hot pain. He forgot where he was for a moment, lost in the thick sluggish movements of his limbs and the pain in his eyes and shoulder. Then after a moment things began to return. He flexed his jaw and blinked blearily trying to get rid of the double vision.

He gasped for the air his lungs desperately needed after and groaned. Blinking a few more times he stared at Karasu's reflection, past the spots dancing across his vision. There was sudden bareness, the lower half of his kimono was pulled up, folded over his obi to stay, baring his ass to Karasu, who messed with his own clothing for a moment. Pulling at the tie of his yukata and then the strings of his western pants. His boots thudded to the floor as Kurama fingered the latch of one of the drawers, seeking purchase on something, if not to hit Karasu with then at least to clench onto while Karasu fucked his certainly unwilling body.

His arm was weighted down just a little more than would have been natural. The weight of the hidden blade in his sleeve.

Karasu leant forward and hooked a hand under the leg of Kurama's that hung over the front of the dresser. He yanked it up and smiled almost fondly at Kurama's small cry of pain at the uncomfortable angle he strained him into.

Like this, he could see the pale clean expanse of Kurama's back and the notches of his vertebrae, the protrusion of his shoulder blades as his hands moved as well as they could manage but still rather sluggishly as he tried to either get away from Karasu or lift himself up. His red hair, which which was only half pinned up, lay in swirls on the dark wood, or glided along his skin with every breath his beautiful captive took.

Kurama's eyes widened when he felt Karasu lean into him, and the rigid flesh of his cock pressed against his ass, sliding between the two globes and teasing him. He felt like he'd throw up, his whole body was repulsed at the very idea of Karasu fucking him once again. The rising panic to preserve his body and life encompassed the need to fight back against him and retain his pride. "No!"

The vanity shuddered and rattled under Kurama's weight as Karasu slammed him down a second time, then ground his hips into Kurama's ass. The friction was unwelcome, but the pleasure that it gave him was not. Kurama was repulsed, open and vulnerable. It was a shameful and mortifying experience for the red head; and a pleasure for the pirate. Though half out of his mind, drifting closer to unconsciousness with every small nudge and slam his abused body took.

"You don't like it? To bad. You have no say in what happens for as long as you're under my control. And you are, Kurama. Under my control, that is." Karasu's voice cut through the air like the slow roar of the sea, quiet but easily heard for miles. Kurama shuddered, and forced his eyes closed, shaking with anger as well as panic. His fingertips bled as he clawed at the wood, leaving gauges.

Karasu's hands left his leg and head, letting up on the awful pressure on his head, and the odd angle he'd parted his legs with. His hands trailed down his sides, then fisted in the silk of the kimono and pulled him back, angling him diagonally. He panted and scrambled fight against Karasu, rushing to get his hands underneath him to help himself rise and twist to fight the pirate.

But his hands grasped his hips and pulled his leg up once again, hooking it over the corner of the table, so that he didn't have to hold it up anymore thus freeing his hand. The blunt head of Karasu's cock pressed again his entrance, and Kurama eyes flew wide, he clenched his teeth. He barely had time to close his eyes and brace himself.

Karasu forced himself in, pulling Kurama back on his cock. He was a burning heat in Kurama's ass, forging deeper and deeper. The pain was much more intimate than he'd experienced any other time, Karasu hadn't even been tempted to prepare him.

He couldn't even scream, he could barely think to breathe past the agony tearing through him. He pushed himself up a little and twisted, only to have a hand slam into the back of his head and then feel the impact of his forehead against the hard top of the dresser once again.

It hurt like no other, disorientated and suffering his desperate attempts to get away only ever earned him another dizzying crunch of his skull against the shattered shards of glass or the dresser he'd been laid prostrate on.

His lips still seeped blood, and his skull along with it now. His check would surely exhibit signs of bruising already, it'd been slammed into the dresser with enough force to break or at least fracture his cheekbone.

What was worse than the pain, and the slow rolls of Karasu's hips and the occasional taunts, was that he calmed eventually and just sat through his, clenching his eyes closed and mouth shut. He didn't mean to get off on it, but the continual pass of that place inside him only spiked the pain and humiliation through with burning pleasure.

Pressed against the wood as he was, his cock was pressed flush against the dresser top and with each powerful thrust of Karasu's hip that drove his fat cock further into Kurama, he jolted and came nearer to crying out. Whether it'd be a cry of agony or ecstasy he didn't know.

It was deprived and sickening. He'd done the same yesterday. Karasu played Kurama like an instrument, no matter how much his mind was repulsed at the idea of fucking Karasu, his body was overjoyed. Once again pressed flush against the wood, his eyes rolling back into his head slowly, as unconsciousness crept forward slower and slower, from blood loss and the pain, emotional and physical, bright spots crept across his vision.

Karasu's rolling laughter cut through the fog of half-consciousness. He could feel the pirate's hand on his ass, on his hip, sliding up the small of his black, smearing the blood that coated his cock over his pale skin.

He screamed, and clawed at the loose silk of his kimono, the jarring motions of Karasu's thrusts and the too full feeling distracted him and made progress difficult. He reached for the blade he'd hidden, his last resort. He'd suffered worse before, but his pride wouldn't willingly take anymore.

"I should kill you now…" Karasu murmured, his voice thick with lust and distant with his concentration being purely on the tightness of Kurama's ass, even after the many times he'd fucked him or tore him open. Like a child with a new toy, so eager to play they ended up breaking it within moments.

His thrusts became frantic as Kurama toed the edge of unconsciousness. It'd be a welcome relief, but he would not allow himself that escape. He struggled to keep himself awake, no matter the pain he suffered.

With his skull pressed against the wood, half clothed in his torn green and bloodstained kimono, drooling the blood from his lip and tongue, his emerald eyes rolling back in his head, his occasional jerks of resistance or moans of pain, Kurama distantly thought of just how sweet his revenge would be.

Karasu's long hair brushed against the bare skin of his shoulders as he came, the hand he held on Kurama's thigh tightening and his nails clawing into Kurama's skin. The heat and sudden fullness of Karasu's come in his ass, coupled with his blood, felt disgusting. It made his skin crawl, he already felt like he was going to throw up, had done so for quite some time. Surely a concussion, from the way Karasu had been treating his head.

His come leaked and spilled onto the expensive silk and blood covered wood of the dresser as he pulled out of Kurama's ass. His hand eased from their vice-like gips, almost soothing along his skin.

Kurama spat the blood from his mouth and coughed, writhed in pain under Karasu's touch. He was desperate to be free of the awkward position he'd been forced into.

"Shhhh…" Karasu chuckled, pulling back some of the stray pieces of hair falling in Kurama's face.

His hand fisted in Kurama's hair, pulling him up, right off the dresser. Limp and drifting in and out of consciousness, feeling violently ill, Kurama fell against Karasu as he pulled him off the dresser and kept an arm around his waist. His hot breath against the skin of his neck sent shivers down his spine, and he blinked at himself, not recognising the bleeding and broken limp doll in his captor's hands as himself. The mirror surely showed another. That creature wasn't him. He was stronger than that.

Karasu's pale eyes met his through the shards of the mirror that still hung in its oval frame. He managed a smirk, his split lip complaining at the action. He laughed at Karasu, as best he could. The pain threatened to overtake his resistance, but the rage in Karasu's eyes was worth it. It was a pathetic, wet laugh, broken by the rattle of the blood in his lungs he'd accidently swallowed.

He was pulled back and thrown into the dresser once more, so that his stomach collided with the drawers and his torso bent over the table painfully. Shards of glass dug into his palms as he put his hands out to protect himself from more damage.

He sank to the floor soon after, tumbling down in a heap of limbs, hair and torn silk. The glass rained down on him, along with a vicious kick in the ribs by Karasu, which sent him sliding a metre or so.

Laying on the floor just shy of the shaft of light cast by the window, his fingers scrapped against the floor once again as he rolled himself over onto his back, his crimson hair, as bloodstained as the rest of him now, covering half of his face.

Karasu faded in and out of vision above him, the cool touch of his fingers on his jaw brought him no comfort. He leant down and placed a kiss to Kurama's lips. Two of his fingers tapped his temple. "I'll kill you someday soon."

It struck Kurama as sickening, that'd he'd say such a sentence as if it were a proclamation of love.

His fingers finally closed around the blade he'd hidden in his kimono, and with no strength to carry out his revenge with his body in such bad condition, he surrendered himself to the arms of unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Silk of Benzaiten**

Three

-

**Present Time**

**-  
**

He could see his father now: shaking his mother's shrunken head at him and wagging a bony finger at the Code. It was a damn large tome and Jack knew all of it by heart. Hell half of it had been inked on his back (just the bits he'd rather keep behind him) and there were all sorts of finicky rules about what to do in these sorts of situations.

He took a better look at the boy.

He didn't appear to have come away from Karasu as cleanly as he had first thought. Bottom line was that Karasu was a pirate. Jack shouldn't have been wincing the way he was. The crimson haired boy limped rather badly in a way he hadn't before, looked like he'd been run into a wall a few times and slashed up something chronic. His feet were covered with blood and dirt, shoeless as he was.

"Are you…you know, all right? You look like you went ten rounds with Anamaria." Half of the frequent slaps he received from the pirate…ess were nothing compared to her left hook. He'd been knocked out cold by her a few times, and he wasn't really all too ashamed to say so. Elizabeth, he'd bet, would hit just as hard these days. The force of the seas lay behind her punch, just like the current was in her hair and the ever changing temperament of the waves was in her eyes.

But Elizabeth was William's. And William was out frolicking about collecting dead men for the one day a year he could be in her arms on the shores. They both had big shoes to fill. Jack found himself with eternity to chase…or rather eternal youth.

Jack licked his lips and turned his mind back to the situation at hand. Fidgeting with his sleeves a little and the bits and pieces he'd tied around his wrists.

The boy's eyes opened again, their odd glow stark against the whiteness of his skin in the moonlight. The dark purple and green tinged blotches that littered his skin made Jack bite his lip, the boy was lucky to be alive after the beating he'd taken. "Who?"

Jack waved a hand a little faster than he had intended, as if he could brush away his own concerns. "Doesn't matter. Can you run?"

The boy looked off to the side bitterly. "I will be able to in a few days. I heal quickly."

"I'll believe that when I see it," he ground out, nodding his head to the side and swaying on the balls of his feet a bit. "That said I have seen some interesting things lately. Would you like to know about the time I was a corpse or the time I was eaten by leviathan?"

That earned him a scathing glare.

"Alright!" he whispered, his voice a little high. "Okay. Don't give me the evil eye. I believe we can help each other."

The boy staggered forward a few steps then reached out with a hand. His hand skimmed the thick bark of the tree, but he righted himself soon after and leant against it for a long moment. The tree itself must have been centuries old, Jack couldn't wrap his arms around it even if he tried. Strangely, the tree seemed to embrace the boy as much as the boy did.

Jack swept to his side, hovering and looking over his shoulders nervously. "I don't mean to sound like I'm rushing you...but there's a crazy pirate after us and you can barely even stand."

The boy gave him a scathing look once again. This time Jack recoiled a little and held his tongue.

He'd seen a lot of evil things in his life, hell he'd been the cause of most of them, but that glare held the depths of Hell within it. Or rather, the Hell that he had been dragged through while in captivity.

"I will manage."

Grinding his teeth and holding his ground as one of his little shoulder Jacks told him to do, he spoke in a harsh whisper, "Karasu won't sit around drinking tea and reading poetry. We need to go now, fix up what you need fixing up and then abandon ship—port...whatever. Now lean on me, or I'll knock you out and take me with you!"

The boy stared at him for a while and then closed his eyes.

Jack waited, twitching at every small sound about them. The wind hissed through the trees and pulled at his hair, making the little trinkets chime quietly. He twitched at that too, then swept his eyes upwards and grimaced.

Eventually the boy held an arm out.

With a grin wider than the situation granted, Jack looped the thin arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own around the boys waist to help support the boy. A cursory look around the forest reassured him a little before they left the darkness of the tree's moonlight shadow. He directed the boy off in whatever direction his feet took him in.

Compass be damned. All roads lead somewhere.

-

The door to the desolate hotel room swung open and black boots stepped inside. There was a distinct crunch with every step, the glass grinding under the soles of the intruder's boots.

The broken mirror cast shards of light all about the room, filling it with rainbow markings and odd patches of moonlight that reflected in the man's eyes. They narrowed on sighting the blood that littered the floor and dresser. The room, though the window was open, still smelt of sex, grime and dust. Blood overpowered it all.

The window to his right created a draft, carrying fresh air through to the door and causing ripples in the Hiei's weathered jacket.

"Gone," he muttered to himself.

His eyes flicked to the window and the trail of blood that lead over to it. Had Kurama dragged himself out of the window? It would explain the blood lingering on the glass and the red coloured light spilling about the room.

With bandaged fingers he reached up to his bandana and tugged until the knot came undone. He pulled it away from his forehead and wrapped the material around his unbound hand.

In the centre of his forehead, a slit opened. Sluggishly at first and then with urgency. It opened wide, displaying the large purple eye and stared straight ahead, out of the window towards the sea.

_He's not here_, he thought loudly, directing it to the one in the cave he had been guarding beforehand.

There was a subtle questioning prod. Slight whispers of questions, both unorganised and hectic. Hiei did his best to organise them into something he could understand enough to answer.

_There's only a trail of blood and glass, but he was definitely here. He's moved since I last had the chance to watch him. _Hiei smirked wickedly.

Another prod, only with more of a venomous tinge.

Hiei's expression returned to a blank and empty slate. _If I find the pirate, I'll find Kurama._

Terse prodding that seared pain through Hiei's eyes and crawled into his skull. He frowned and clenched his fists.

_He was here._

Silence.

Hiei grunted and all three of his eyes blinked once, the one in the centre of his forehead opening a little more lazily this time.

He sorted through scents and visuals, barraged with information that he didn't want or need. Just the fox. Just need to find the fox via the pirate.

North.

His third eye closed and Hiei gingerly replaced his bandana, trying it at the back of his head with a skill born of repetition. Then he brushed his dark hair away from his eyes and walked to the window.

Sea breeze greeted him, its salty fresh tang stinging his lips.

Looking down he could see the remainder of the window and more blood. Kurama seemed to have fallen from the second storey window and landed decidedly not on his feet. He narrowed his eyes, feeling his chest tighten.

He leapt from the window, the black leather of his jacket drifting after him.

-

"Don't tell me you've never commandeered a ship before?" Jack drawled, looking down blankly at the boy.

The red-head's lips pulled down and he fisted his hands in the shining emerald of his kimono, holding it up as he waded through the shallow water after Jack. They were making their way around the coastline towards an unmanned boat on the other side of the island. It wasn't large really, but it would do until they procured another ship. "I've stolen many things, but never a ship."

Jack hummed nonsensically.

The boy was able to walk now, though it was mostly a hobble accompanied with winces and shaking limbs. Jack still held him about the waist to keep him steady but otherwise he let the boy be. The thinness of the boys waist worried him. He'd bet he could count his ribs easily.

The sun was rising as the water rushed over their feet, taking their footprints with it.

"So what are you? A mermaid? I haven't met one of them yet. I'm still waiting," Jack rambled, taking a moment to yank his boot from the sand where his boot had sunken in with a small grunt. "I figure I'll meet one eventually."

The boy chuckled. "No. I am kitsune. A fox."

Jack waved a hand nonchalantly. "Fox. Fish. Nh."

There was silence for a long while after that. Jack had hit a nerve. Okay, he understood that.

Jack looked over his shoulder just to make sure no one was behind them then switched topics.

"Do you have a name, kitsune?"

Silence for a long time again, then came the quiet reply, "I go by Kurama these days."

Jack grinned. "Ah. Well, it's belated but I am Captain Jack Sparrow. How'd you run into Karasu? You two don't seem to be, erm, on the best of terms..." He waved a hand about, tightening his hold on Kurama when he stumbled. The boy grumbled, reluctant to accept Jack's help, but he nodded in thanks all the same.

Jack tried desperately to not notice how the sun filtered through a strand of Kurama's crimson hair that had fallen from its pins and coils and made it seem like fire as it caressed his neck. He'd been to Japan before. The women there were...alluring. Their long necks and humble, sweet natured personalities had been enticing. Their pink, delicate...

Jack turned his eyes back to the coast stretching out before them.

Kurama cleared his throat before speaking. "An Englishman bought me from a slave trader. En route to Port Royal the ship was attacked by pirates. They killed everyone, but when Karasu came below deck to the brig...he spared me. Kept me as a bed warmer instead. I thought I couldn't afford to bring down the Toguro Brothers' wrath if I disobeyed or killed Karasu..."

Jack turned his head to look down at the boy. He'd turned away, but Jack could sense the bitterness leaking from the boy. It was like a black cloud, nigh tangible. Like sludge on his skin. Jack...felt sorry for the boy.

"I cannot die in disgrace like this."

Jack clicked his tongue and turned his eyes to the hull of the approaching ship. "In my experience, it's not good to die at all. That said, living the life of the dead isn't all that bad either."

It might have been his imagination, but Jack swore he heard the boy chuckle weakly.

Jack sighed. "Let's commandeer this ship and put as much distance between Karasu and ourselves as possible."

-

The act of acquiring a fully maned ship is...surprisingly easy, as long as you have Captain Jack Sparrow with you.

Reputation alone is enough to have most of the crew terrified of him, it seems.

Three ships later, they'd procured themselves a merchant ship that was sympathetic to pirates, nigh turning pirate themselves in the days of bad business.

Kurama thought it amusing, through the fog of pain that riddled his mind and body. As soon as he found a moment to, he slunk into the shadows and slid into the darkness of the cabins below. Hiding beneath the stairs that lead to the crew's quarters might not have been the best place to lick his wounds, but it was the best place for the moment, with the crew on deck scampering about following Jack's barked orders like loyal dogs that had worked under him for years. The man had a strange charisma about him that enabled him to do such things.

The first thing Kurama did was tear his kimono off himself and rummage around the crews cabins for clothing and something to tie his hair back with. Wandering about in a ship's hull that swayed back and forth with the ebb and flow of the waves was a little difficult on his weakened body, starved for the most part and in dire need of proper rest and recuperation, but he managed.

It took him a while, going through all of the chests and piles under the hammocks and cots with slow efficiency. Once he'd collected himself a pile of wearable clothes in what he figured to be his size he set upon pulling them on. Gooseflesh crawled across his skin, bringing his attention to the dark swells on his arms and hips, between his legs and thighs. He spared a moment to frown and then hurried on with dressing himself.

He worked a loose poet's shirt over his head and pulled on some breeches after, tucking the shirt into the breeches whilst he was at it. A long sash around his waist to hold his breeches in place and a leather jerkin came next. He took a baldric while he was at it, just in case. Without his star ball, he was as good as weapon less.

He caught himself pining for a mirror out of curiosity, but the thought was quickly dismissed and a hand flew to his temple. The shards of the mirror that Kurama had rammed him into repeatedly had been mostly removed, but he was sure there was still some that had been assimilated into his skin as it had healed.

He sighed heavily and returned to the dark corner under the stairs, leaving his torn and bloody kimono in the centre of the cabin. It was soaked with water and smelt of sea, sweat, sex and blood. He had no desire to touch it again.

Sitting on a wooden crate and pressing his back into the hard wooden wall, Kurama drew his knees up to his chest simply thought. One could call it meditating, were it not for his tense manner and the way his eyes tended to dart up to the stairs at every creak of the ship and the wooden stairs.

That was how Jack found him.

Stumbling down the stairs and swinging around to face Kurama. The pirate's seemingly instinctive knowledge of where his hiding place seemed to be was curious. Jack thrust a pair of high boots at Kurama abruptly without saying anything. Eager to please, unaware of the danger that lurked in Kurama's troubled though healing mind.

Kurama took them in silence, and tracked Jack with his eyes as he wandered around the cabin, peaking here and there. Finally he came upon the kimono and fisted a hand in it, bundling the sopping mass into a ball and holding it in one hand by his thigh. He seemed to be searching for words, staring at the floor.

"I've never really had to help a man recover from the kinds of things you've been through. If you had lost an eye or a leg, I'd know exactly what to do, but you've lost something else entirely. And don't lie to me, I know what he's done... Caring's never been one of my strong points..." Jack murmured, looking at Kurama's bare feet, the newly red patches of scar tissue from the glass he'd trod on trying to escape Karasu's rape littered them like the markings of a tiger.

Kurama only stared silently, his fingers tightening in the dark leather of the worn but decent boots.

"I know what it's like to lose freedom. That's why I'm a pirate. I chase horizons, and loot. I do so honestly and fairly. Karasu...well he's not a pirate. He's not even fit to be called a man."

With a decisive nod and avoiding Kurama's gaze, Jack left Kurama. With his keen hearing, Kurama could hear him issuing orders that no one was to disturb him under any circumstances until Kurama himself had risen from the cabin himself.

He'd taken the kimono with him.

-

The sky was dark by the time Kurama climbed the stairs to the deck. The crew was still rushing about here and there, but it was a calm windless night and there were no clouds or land in sight. The crew moved with a calm ease, performing their tasks untiringly and happily. On the deck, at the aft, there was a boy who couldn't be older than fifteen, scrubbing the wood lovingly.

He kept his head down as Kurama approached him. "Where is Captain Jack?"

Now the boy did look up. He took Kurama in for a moment, and then mild surprise washed over his features. "I thought you was a lady."

Kurama allowed himself to be amused. He had been wearing a kimono before and he supposed it had been Karasu's intention from the beginning to embarrass him by creating situations like this. Though his male pride demanded his hackles rise, he remained calm through the many other emotions his mind seem to think he out to be feeling. Emotions were second par to survival, after all.

"I am not. Is this a problem?"

The boy dropped the brush back into the wooden pail by his knees and sat back on his heels. "No sir. Cap'n Jack you said?"

"Yes. Where is he?"

"Cap'ns cabin. Below deck on the port side of the aft...er, left side at the back." He scratched the back of his head, ruffling short greasy hair as he did so.

"Thank you." Kurama had been about to leave, but he paused and looked back down at the boy who was still watching him with deceptively intelligent eyes. "What's your name?"

"Don't got one. The men call me Finney though. Suppose it's short fer Phineas or somth'n." He shrugged a shoulder and pushed his dirty shirt back over his shoulder when it slid down.

"I am Kurama."

Suddenly feeling tired, Kurama swivelled on his heel and made his way for the Captain's cabin, leaving Finney to stare after him. He could still feel his eyes on him even as he descended the steps to the cabin which seemed to be much larger and eloquent than the crew's cabins.

He didn't knock; he figured Jack would have heard the loud thud of his booted feet on the wooden steps long before he'd made it to the door.

Jack was sitting on the bed, his jacket tossed over the wooden chair by the bed and his boots beneath the chair itself.

Kurama turned to close the door quietly and slipped his baldric over his shoulder, he placed it by the door.

"You know, you don't look so bad dressed in pirate getup like that. The black suits you. Least it's black now, I think the breeches were once white..." Jack mumbled into his bottle of rum arching an eyebrow at the wall.

"Western clothing is strange." Kurama sat on the rather large bed beside Jack, an actual one, not like the cots and hammocks that decorated the close quarters of the crew's cabins. The sheets were dusty and stained with what looked like wine, but Kurama was used to living in grime and dirt after these past few years and the turn of events within them.

He rested against the wall beside Jack and took the bottle from him when it was offered. He barely held back the cough that threatened to rise after he'd taken a gulp. He could not keep the look of pain and distaste from appearing however. "Urgh."

"Aye, It's been a while since I visited China or the like," Jack said, as if he knew the strangeness that came with wearing clothes of a different cut and culture.

They were silent for a long while, and Kurama rested his head back on the wall, allowing himself to relax momentarily. The ship barely even rocked now, the weather had calmed considerably since his first venture below deck in the afternoon.

"Where are we headed Jack?"

"That's Captain Jack, foxie. And we're headed for...well I'm not sure. We'll figure it out in the morning. I have no magical hiding places. Maybe we'll stop at a sandbar somewhere and rest the men up and hide from Karasu at the same time."

Kurama looked at him, frowning as he did so. "I can't do that, Jack. Captain Jack. I have to find my star ball."

Jack turned his head to peer at him curiously. The darkness around his eyes seemed, if possible, even darker in the candlelit darkness of the cabin. "And where is that?"

"...I don't know. I have always felt that it would find me, in a sense."

Jack tipped his head back and narrowed his eyes at Kurama, then poked him with a finger. "You have no desire to find it?"

"Of course I do!"

Jack grunted and shifted around for a moment, lifting his hips and tugging at a string that was attached to his belt. After a moment he loped a black box at Kurama, who caught it easily. When he opened it he found himself staring at a golden compass that pointed Northwest by north.

"That'll give us directions, you just have to give me the bearings, foxie. We'll hoist the anchor in the morning. Now, rest and stop bearing your teeth, it creeps me out. There's no Karasu here."

Kurama stared at the compass a moment longer, confusion evident. "Which north does this point to?"

"Ay?"

"Stellar or true north? From your confidence I assume it's not broken."

Jack smirked and settled down a little, sliding down the bed until his back was level with the bed and only his head was bent to lean against the wall. "It points in whatever direction you want it to point in," he said quite happily.

Kurama blinked. "Desire? It runs on desire?"

"Aye, it does. Calypso, I guess you could call her the goddess of the sea, gave it to me a while ago."

Silence reigned for a long time. Kurama thought quickly, running through plans and counter plans. Possibilities and probabilities. Jack drunk happily, content with whatever thoughts were running through his own head.

Kurama wrenched one of Jack's hands away from his rum and placed the compass within it. From its direction pointing away from Kurama it swivelled almost immediately in the opposite direction to face Kurama, then stayed as such when Kurama turned the box slightly.

Kurama frowned. He tied the string attached to the compass to his sash and snapped the box closed loudly, then slid to the edge of the bed.

"It's no secret I suppose," Jack said.

"No," Kurama said, "no secret. It's been in your eyes from the beginning; a desire to manipulate as well as take."

"Now I wouldn't call it manipulating..."

Staring forward, eyes hard, Kurama's hands fisted in the dusty sheets of the bed. "You want the Silk of Benzaiten, assuming you've heard of it. You think I know where it is, because I'm kitsune. You intend to get into my favour and persuade me to help you find it."

"...I'm not going to lie to you, if that's what you want. And, aye, I've heard some things about it."

Kurama sighed and let his chin drop to his chest. His hair fell to cover his eyes. A sudden wave of utter exhaustion crept over him.

Jack shifted beside him, rearranging himself on the bed. He even went so far as to place his nigh empty bottle on the chair beside the bed before he sat up and wrapped an arm around Kurama's chest, guiding him to lay back on the bed beside him.

He did as Jack wordlessly asked and lay beside him for the night. Jack himself merely slept like the dead for the entire night, though he tended to mutter nonsense phrases and jerk a little in his sleep. The only point of contact between them was their arms brushing against one another until Kurama rolled over onto his side, facing away from the strange pirate who intended to use him for his own gain selfishly. Yet he was helping him too. Kurama should not have been so annoyed. It was a mutual trade agreement really, and Jack had no real reason to help Kurama out.

It was a long time before sleep claimed him, giving him relief from the spikes of pain that spiralled through his system.


End file.
